


In Confidence

by MuggleMaybe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Coming Out, Community: HPFT, Cousins, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Questioning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 06:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8786653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuggleMaybe/pseuds/MuggleMaybe
Summary: Christmas is all well and good, but this year Rose and Albus have more pressing matters to deal with.





	

Albus groaned and tried to open his eyes, but they seemed to be glued shut. He scrambled out from his twisted sheets and blindly felt his way to the loo, where he leaned heavily on the sink and splashed his face with water. He yelped. It was bloody cold. Rubbing the grime away with his fists, he managed to unstick one eye, and then the other. The bathroom was dark, since he hadn't attempted to turn on the light in his deranged walk over. His eyes fell on his shadowed reflection in the mirror. Ugh, he looked terrible. There were heavy bags under his eyes, his hair was a disaster, his breath tasted like shit, and he smelled absolutely foul. Plus, he felt slightly nauseous and his head was pounding at his temples. So this is what James meant when he said hangovers were their own special form of Cruciatus Curse.

"Merry bloody Christmas," he muttered to himself. He turned the faucet on the sink to cold and allowed the icy water to pool in his hands, cupping it up to his mouth and swishing it, trying to rid his taste buds of the flavor of stale beer and the metallic trace of vodka. Exactly how much had he had to drink last night? He remembered the first round, a vodka shot with James, Freddy, and Roxanne. They were all far more experienced drinkers than he was. Although, to be fair, that didn't take much. Al had never had more than a sip of his mum's pumpkin rum until that night. He spat into the basin and ran his tongue along his teeth. They felt oddly filmy, and he wondered when the last time was he'd gone to sleep without brushing. Probably not since before Hogwarts. Remedying this was his first task of the day, and he had only just completed it when his stomach rolled rebelliously and he was promptly heaving into the toilet, knees cold on the tile floor, necessitating a repeated (and very thorough) rinse and brushing. He turned on the lights. The glare made him wince, and it was through slits of eyelid that he turned on the shower. He let it get plenty hot before undressing and stepping in, and he quite honestly had never been happier to feel clean in his life. He washed himself and his hair twice each, taking his time to scrub away the grime and sweat and alcoholic fumes leftover from the previous night, and as he did so he tried to recall what had happened. Freddie had an in with the bartender. That had been the beginning. They'd run into each other on the Hogwarts Express platform the previous week. "Hey, Al, come with us Christmas Eve. I know a bloke who'll let it slide." Al remembered hesitating. Why hadn't he gone with that first instinct? "I don't know..." He'd said. "What, are you chicken?" James had jibed. Oh, yeah, that was why. James. What a prat. So he'd ended up at the pub with his brother and two cousins, a mischievous lot if their ever was one, and somehow his mother had bought the lie he'd fed her about going shopping for last minute Christmas presents with Rose. The pub was alarmingly busy. It was more of a club, really, with a wide dance floor packed to the brim with well-pissed teenagers and twenty-somethings. Albus disliked it immediately, and suddenly found himself wishing he really was browsing the shops with Rose. That would have been pleasant, and familiar, and easy. There was nothing easy about clubbing, at least not for Al. Most of his family seemed to find it completely natural, and he followed their lead like a lost puppy, ordering the same drinks as James, copying Freddy's dance moves, and trying with all his might not to be obvious as he checked out the same blokes as Roxy.

There had been a whole slew of girls around, and within the first hour James had charmed his way into a gaggle of four girls with very low necklines and very high heels. Fred joined him eagerly, pulling Al along behind him and coaxing off Roxy as she whined about abandonment.

At the table with the girls, Al was relieved to find he didn't have to say much. His extroverted cousin and brother more than dominated the conversation, and he wouldn't have been able to get a word in even if he wanted to. Which he didn't. They ordered a round, and then another, and another, and Al found his attention fading from the group and his eyes moving as if pulled by magnetic force toward the dance floor. There was a couple dancing - or, not really a couple, because there was something distant between them. Instinct told Albus they weren't together in that way. The girl was short, with cropped hair and her back to their table. The bloke with her was not short, but not uncomfortably tall, either. He had blonde hair, broad shoulders, and devious hips that danced in a way Albus had not known a man could dance. His face was Roman in profile, all sharp angles and cheekbones, and Al longed to see his eyes. At that moment, the bloke looked up, perhaps feeling the weight of an unfamiliar gaze. The stranger's eyes were a dark, twinkling brown, and they gleamed as they caught on Al's face. The man's mouth twitched in a playful grin. He held Al's stare for a long, painfully enticing moment, and then leaned over to whisper in his friend's ear. She turned, caught sight of Al, and threw back her head in a laugh before nodding her understanding. Then he looked back at Al and nodded toward the bar, his smirk creating a dimple in one cheek. Al had a sudden, ludicrous desire to kiss it, and he flushed deeply under the dark light of the club. Before he stopped to think, he was slipping out of his seat, making some paltry excuse to the others, and maneuvering his way through the crowd to the unknown bloke who drew him like pure gold calls to a niffler, entirely irresistible. James' call at his back - "Oy, where are you going?" - slid off his shoulders into oblivion.

At last he reached his destination and leaned his elbows on the bar top beside the object of his desire. "Two whiskeys," he was saying. He had a deep, velvety sort of voice, a more adult voice than Al had anticipated, and his whole body thrilled at the sound.

The bartender procured the drinks with a wink and an indiscreet look at Albus that brought the blood rushing back to his cheeks. The Adonis-like man slid one of the glasses along the counter to Al, who surprised himself by catching it gracefully. "Those are some eyes you've got," the man grinned, and Al felt his own lashes fall and rise as if in slow motion at the words.

"You too," he smiled. "I'm Al."

"Wilson," the man replied. He held his hand out for a shake, and Al reciprocated, feeling numb to reality, as if he were acting out a scene in somebody else's life. Wilson's hand was large and warm, and his grip was solid. He took a sip of his drink and turned to face Albus. "You didn't seem too interested in your friend back there."

"Who?" Albus found he couldn't quite recall what else had occurred that night. "The blonde girl. Pretty face, gigantic boobs? Mate, she was practically undressing you with her eyes."

Al swallowed. Why was his throat so dry? He took another sip of whiskey. "I hadn't noticed," he admitted.

Wilson laughed, a loud chuckle that made Albus smile in spite of himself. "Blimey, you really are gay, aren't you?"

Al hadn't the faintest idea of how to respond to this, so he drained his glass and set it on the bar, taking comfort in the weight of it, the realness of it in that most surreal of moments. When he felt the touch of rough fingers on his jaw, he turned back toward his new acquaintance with a start. He let his eyes linger on the man's face and realized he really was a man, several years older than Al. Probably at least 20. But he was plenty fit, and Al felt the electric pulse in his blood and found he didn't give two shits about age at that moment. Wilson ran his tongue along his lip as his finger brushed accidentally-on-purpose over Al's mouth, and Al shivered pleasantly.

The older man grinned again, and drained his glass. "Meet me in the loo in two minutes. Last stall." Then he turned and vanished into the crowd.

Al waited half a moment, stunned, before the bar tender returned to clear their glasses and the wink he gave Albus was enough to make the relative privacy of the loo sound appealing indeed. He glanced back toward his cousins on the other side of the dance floor. Roxy was dancing beside their group with a very tall fellow and Freddy was climbing onto the table, a Santa hat lopsided on his head. Al had a feeling this was the prefect moment to vanish, and so he bit his lip in hopeful trepidation and made his way to the toilets.

And that, Al thought as he washed the last of the shampoo from his mess of black hair, was how he lost his virginity. To a much older and more experienced stranger in a nightclub loo. To a man. Had he seen that coming? He thought he had, but he wasn't entirely certain. And yet, Wilson had certainly seemed confident of where Al's passions lay. If nothing else, he had been an excellent shag, at least as far as Al's limited knowledge could ascertain. But Al had never thought of himself as precisely gay before, not the way Wilson had stated it, like an undeniable fact, and the thought made his insides squirm in a way he knew had nothing to do with his over indulgence last night.

It wasn't that he thought there was anything wrong with being gay. But then why was it so difficult to get his head around the idea that he himself might be into blokes? He'd certainly enjoyed himself last night. Oh, yes. Suddenly it all seemed glaringly obvious, and he wondered if his parents realized it, or his cousins. Was he the last to know? Would everyone at the Burrow be whispering about it behind his back?

Mind racing, Al stepped out of the shower and attempted to piece together the rest of what had happened last night. After parting ways with his... friend... he'd returned to his cousins and found James and Roxy dancing wildly with their own catches of the night, and Freddy still sitting at the table, his fingers tangled in some girl's hair as he snogged her with sickening disregard for decorum. Really, Al wouldn't have minded at all if his memory had managed to let that visual slip.

Was there anything else? He didn't think there was anything else. He finished getting dressed and made his way downstairs, hoping Dad might have been persuaded into making breakfast, the only meal of the day he could do better than Mum.

Happily, Dad stood in front of to stove. Between flipping pancakes, he slapped Lily's hand away from the pile of perfectly crisped bacon rashers waiting on the counter. "Set the table, and it'll be ready before you know it," he was saying, unable to keep the laugh out of his voice.

James held a large mug of tea cradled in his hands like a lifeline, his head resting on the table between his arms. Apparently Al wasn't the only one who had partied a little too hard.

"Morning, James," Al said, but James merely waved him away with a muttered complaint.

"Albie!" Lily slid across the kitchen floor in her sock feet and hugged him tight around the waist. She was fourteen, but where her brothers were concerned she seemed eager to behave like a seven-year-old for eternity. "James says you got utterly sloshed last night," she stated, giving him a disapproving glare that he knew was false. Then her mouth shrunk into a pout and she whined, "It's no fair! Next time you have to bring me!"

Dad overheard as he carried the bacon and now finished pancakes to the table. "Absolutely not," he said, setting the plates down and scooping her up in his arms easily. You are still much too little for that, Lilly Billy!" He kissed her cheek, and Lily squirmed, adamantly arguing that she was no longer a little girl and would he please put her down.

Al moved the teabag around in his mug to make it brew faster and squinted his eyes against the noise. His head still ached. He reached in front of James for the creamer and his brother looked up.

"Look who's alive," Dad observed. "You boys are lucky your Mum had a few last gifts to wrap. She'd never allow me to take pity on you like this."

"What are you on about?" James asked, his voice coming out shoddy.

Harry glanced at Lily, but she was now thoroughly engrossed in devouring her breakfast. "I put pepper-up in your tea. You should feel better before long."

James grinned, "Dad, you are seriously the coolest."

"Yeah, thanks," Al agreed.

Harry merely put a finger to his lips and started talking to Lily about who knows what before she could pick up on their secret. She could never keep her mouth shut about anything.

Albus meant to return to his pancakes, but James jabbed him in the side. "Hey, what was that for?"

"Where did you disappear to last night? That girl was all over you, and then you just vanished and we didn't see you for ages."

He fully intended to lie, fully planned to say he'd gotten tired or ran into a classmate or simply spent an uncharacteristic amount of time on the dance floor, but when he spoke, the words that came out were painfully honest. "I met someone."

 he mouthful of tea James was about to swallow came spraying out, so that both Harry and Lily were paying attention when he exclaimed, "You met somebody? But... you're hopeless with women! That girl was seriously after you and you just blew her off - and, blimey, she was a looker. You were off your rocker, really - and then you say all calm, ‘I met somebody.' What the hell Al?"

"James," Albus spat through clenched teeth, "could we possibly talk about this any time except right now?"

This was when James seemed to realize that his father and sister were looking between the two boys, mouths agape. Lily recovered quickly. "I think right now is the perfect time! Don't you, Daddy?"

"Lily, no." Al's voice was somewhere between a plea and a reprimand.

Unfortunately, Dad looked intrigued. "You know, Lily, I actually do think it's the perfect time.

"So," Lily sang, "who did you meet?"

"Was it that bint near us on the dance floor? I thought she was with somebody?" James put in.

"Oh, what did she look like? Was she pretty? Did she have ginger hair? Nana would love it if you married a ginger!" Lily said.

"He isn't going to marry her, you idiot! It was just a fling! Isn't that right Al?"

Al felt his face growing warmer and warmer by the second. On the one hand, he was relieved; it seemed he wasn't the last one to realize he liked guys after all. Lily certainly didn't seem aware, and neither did James. Dad said nothing, but merely listened to the interrogation he'd egged-on with amused satisfaction. Mum might know, but he wasn't sure. Surely she would have told dad - she was, after all, the apparent genetic source of Lily's propensity to spill the beans on any secret within her possession. Dad certainly hadn't given her that trait, having to be rather closed-lipped at times as Head Auror.

"Come on, Al, tell us! I'm dying of curiosity! I'm going to keel over right here and it's going to be all your fault." Lily moaned.

"I just can't imagine a girl who'd be desperate enough to have you," James said, in a voice suggesting this was a perfectly reasonable thing to say. Albus threw a pancake at him and couldn't resist a pleased shout when it hit him smack in the face and slid back down to the table, leaving a trail of syrup in its wake.

"No throwing food!" Lily shrieked. "Dad, Al through his food!"

Dad rolled his eyes. "Yes, Lily, I saw. Al, you know the rules."

"He deserved it." Al muttered. Dad cleaned James' sticky cheeks with a flick of his wand and bit back a grin, which then faded quickly from his face at the sound of a new voice.

"Oh sweet baby Merlin, I can't leave you lot alone for a moment, can I?" Apparently, Mum had finished her Christmas preparations. She sat down between James and Lily and served herself a generous helping of breakfast while Dad poured her a cup of tea just the way she liked it. They all watched her expectantly, until she drained the last of her Earl Grey, set the mug firmly on the table and said, "Well, weren't you eating?" Then, catching sight of Al's face, she shot an indulgent look at her husband. "Harry, you oughtn't to have given them pepper-up, especially not Al. If he's going to be an idiot and get sloshed when he's underage and knows full well that it's illegal, I think he should have to suffer the consequences."

"But, James"-Al began to protest, but was cut off when James threw a hand over his mouth.

"James is eighteen, and I may not approve of him being a bloody idiot," Ginny scowled dangerously at her oldest child, "but he's within his rights to do it if he likes. You, on the other hand, are underage. Or did you think I'd forgotten."

Albus shook his head. "Sorry, Mum."

"Well, it's done now. And since your father was ever so helpful in making you feel better, you two boys will have plenty of energy to shovel the front walk - no wands." Mum smiled cheerfully, as if she'd just delivered a gift rather than a punishment.

"But it's Christmas!" James said, aghast.

"You should have thought of that before you got yourselves drunk." Sometimes Mum really was rather evil.

Dad didn't seem to mind. He leaned across the table to kiss her, and then said, "You know, before you interrupted us, Lily was endeavoring to find out about the girl Al met last night."

Ginny looked sharply at Al over her newly refilled teacup. "The girl Al met... but, I thought..." Her voice faded out.

Shit. She knew. The others were clueless, but Mum knew. Al wanted to fade into the furniture, and scolded himself for it. He shouldn't be embarrassed, it shouldn't matter. It didn't matter. Except, of course, it did.

James flicked a piece of burnt bacon at him. "I don't know why you're not playing this up. You'll probably never have another opportunity," he jibed, and it occurred to Al that this, at least, might be true. He didn't know how he'd managed to get lucky with Wilson, but he might not ever find another guy who found him appealing. He didn't have James' easy charm, or Freddie's humor, or Louis's celebrity-like good looks, or any of it. And while Al knew he was reasonably intelligent, he was certainly not the most intelligent of the guys in his year in Ravenclaw. He sunk back on his chair, his heart pounding with realization, and the sound of his mother deliberately cheering the room with Christmas talk was the only thing that kept him from utter panic.

He took a last bite of pancake and stood, carrying his dishes to the sink. Outside the world looked sweet and sugared with new snow - but it was a world Albus wasn't so sure he could face at the moment. Too bad he had to spend the entire day surrounded by riotous Weasleys and Christmas crackers.

 

*

 

Christmas at the Burrow could only be described as chaos. Usually, it was the a chaos that Albus enjoyed. Having all the cousins together was always a laugh, and Nana Molly made even better pudding than the Hogwarts house elves. That day, though, he could think of nothing but the previous night, and the uncomfortable conversation over breakfast.

He was hiding out in Uncle Ron's hideous old bedroom when Rose found him and plopped down beside him on the creaky bed.

"Okay, spill," she commanded.

Al grimaced. "I don't know what you're on about." He lied.

She gave him a withering look. "I'm not an idiot, Albus. You look a wreck."

He let his head fall heavily against the wall. "You are so nosy. Can't you just go play Exploding Snap with the others?"

Rose stood up at once. "Fine!" She snapped. "But don't come whinging to me when-"

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. It's just... I don't know." He swallowed a thick lump in his throat. "I guess I'd rather talk in private."

Rose glanced around pointedly. "I think we're already doing that. So, want to tell me why you look like you've just lost a fight with a dementor?"

He didn't have a clue how to begin. What could he even say? After a moment of silence in which Rose's stare became increasingly difficult to stand, he groaned. "I can't do this."

"Oh, don't be a wuss. Look, I heard Freddy saying some girl chatted you up a lot last night. Is it about her?"

"Er, I guess so."

"Well," Rose prodded, "what about her?"

"She was very good looking."

"Okay."

He could tell Rose's patience was a sham at this point, and he didn't want to push her, but it was more difficult than he had expected to articulate what had happened. "She talked to me a lot."

"She talked to you? Is that all?"

"Well, it was definitely flirting."

"Ah, here we are, that's the bit I was waiting for," Rose grinned. "So, why are you upset? Wouldn't that be fun?"

He clenched his teeth, the memory suddenly retuning from the previous night. "I don't know... you should have heard her."

"Why? What did she say?" Rose's eyes lit up, and Al cursed himself for egging her on.

He cleared his throat and whispered the line as quietly as he could.

"Sorry, Al, I didn't hear that." Rose smirked.

"She said if I ever wanted her to have a look at my broomstick, she's an expert at making them fly straight." His face was so red, he might have been a quaffel.

Rose roared with laughter. "And you don't think that sounds fun?" She asked, once she'd settled down enough to speak. "I still don't understand how this is a problem."

"Because, Rose," he said in exasperation. "I didn't like her like that."

Rose shrugged, "Well, did you find out what she's looking for? She might be perfectly decent, you never know."

He shook his head. "No. You don't understand." Abus thought he was going to vomit. "It's not just that I don't like her that way. It's that I don't like any girls that way. I'm... I think - no, I know - I'm gay. I'm gay, Rose."

"Wow..." Rose said. She fiddled with the curled edges of an old Chudley Cannon poster on the wall."I wasn't expecting you to say that."

Now Albus really thought he was going to vomit. He wanted to crawl under the bed and never come out. Why had he thought this was a good idea? Why did he think he was ready to tell her?

Before he had time to turn and flee, his cousin had wrapped him up in an enormous hug. "Thanks for telling me, Al."

Albus's breath steadied at her words. She wasn't mad, or disappointed, or anything, really. "Thank you." Al answered.

"For what?"

"For not hating me? I don't know."

"Al, anyone who would hold that against you is a bigot and an arse and you don't need them in your life."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." It helped a lot to hear Rose say it, though, if he was being honest.

 

*

 

Albus was gay. Rose could feel the knowledge unraveling in her brain, weaving itself into her mental portrait of her favorite cousin. She found the change simultaneously odd and comfortable.

"You know, it makes sense, now that I think about it," she said.

"How do you mean?" Albus looked uneasy, so Rose tried to make her expression as warm as possible.

"Oh, you never were as interested in girls as a lot of boys. I just thought you were shy."

"Well, you weren't wrong about that part, either." He said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, is there someone you like? Which other guys are gay? I can never tell."

"Rose, just because I'm gay doesn't mean I have some built in gay bloke detection ability. Although, that would be nice. Do you think they sell that?"

She laughed. "Don't try to change the subject. Who has my heartbreaker cousin set his eyes on?" She nudged him gently. "I'll be supportive. I promise."

Al jerked his head dismissively. "It doesn't matter. He's never going to like me."

Rose frowned. "Why would you say that?"

"Well, why would he want me? Louis is good looking. James is charming. Freddie is funny. Hugo is smart. I'm just, I don't know, I'm boring. I'm not the hot one, or the smart one, or the charming one, or the funny one. I'm just blah. Boring Albus Potter. I'm nothing. And this bloke, the one I like, is heavenly."

Rose shook her head at him and then, without warning, pulled him into another tight hug and didn't let go for some time. When she finally released him, there were tears in her eyes. "Oh, Al, you're a bloody idiot."

"I thought you said you were going to be supportive!"

"I am being supportive! But you can't seriously think all of that."

"Are you saying I'm a liar?" he spat.

"No! God, you're infuriating. I'm saying that you're wrong. First of all, you are beyond brilliant in Defense, by far the best in the school! Not to mention, you're one of the best students in the year in general. And you're great at Quidditch. And everyone really likes you because you're a nice guy and you can joke around and have fun without acting like a jerk."

Albus was looking at her like she'd suddenly sprouted a second head. "I don't know..." he mumbled. "Besides, the bloke I like is incredibly fit, and I just can't compete with that."

Rose's eyebrows climbed nearly to her hairline. "You're impossible."

"What? He countered, his voice defensive. "It's true!"

"It's bollocks! Don't you see the way girls look at you? How can you think you're not good looking? I'm always having to shut my friends up about it. Frankly, it's disgusting the way they moon over you. ‘Oh, have you seen Al's eyes? Have you seen his hair? He's gotten so tall. Al's so handsome. Al's so fit.'" She shuddered. "For Merlin's sake, Al, what more could you ask for? It already makes me want to vomit!"

"They... they really say that stuff?" He asked tentatively.

"Yes, you moron! So shut up about not being good looking! If there's anyone who has a right to complain about being ugly, it's me." Rose looked away for a moment and watched the snow falling outside. She hadn't meant to let that slip, hadn't meant to make this about her. Why was she always so selfish?

Al's hand was heavy on her shoulder, pulling her around to face him again. "It seems like maybe I'm not the only one who could use some reassurance."

"Seems that way," she conceded.

Al slumped down on the mattress again. "Well, I can see why you got so worked up," he said at length.

"Why's that?" Rose asked.

"It's hard to hear someone say things like that. Especially someone you care about."

"If this gets any mushier, I might have to go downstairs. Just a warning."

"Rosie, I'm serious! How did we get so fucked up? James and Lily are brimming with confidence, and Hugo seems okay. But you and me..." He looked at her again, forcing her chin up with a gentle hand. "Do you really think you're ugly?"

Rose bit her lip. "Well, I don't think I'm grotesque. I mean, I don't think the sight of my face would send someone to blindness. But I definitely don't think I'm pretty. I'm not attractive"- Al started to interrupt, but she held out a hand to stop him-"don't pretend I'm wrong Al, I know it's true. If it weren't true, surely someone would have gone after me by now. Either that, or I have the world's worst personality."

"That's definitely it," Al said, and she punched him in the arm. "Ow! Blimey, I was kidding! You know I was kidding!"

Rose giggled despite herself as he rubbed his arm. "You deserved it," she teased, sticking out her tongue.

He rolled his eyes at her again. "What I was going to say before I was punched in the sodding arm was that, well, you're not the only one fending off nasty comments about your cousins."

She straightened in surprise. "You mean...?"

"My mates eye you up all the time, and I see other blokes do it too. All of you girls. The sixth year Ravenclaw girls are, so they tell me, a fit flock of birds."

Rose gagged. "Please never say that again."

He laughed. "Sorry, it was a direct quote. Miles Zambini during Herbology, of all things."

"Merlin's pants, Zambini? He can't have meant me. Hasn't he already got a modeling contract lined up for after Hogwarts? Surely he meant one of the others. Lauren probably, blokes are always after her."

"He was looking right at you when he said it." Al said pointedly.

Rose's face flushed. She resituated herself on the pillows and let out a long breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make this about me."

"I know you didn't. That's okay. It's about both of us, really." Al wrapped an arm around her back and she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

She felt safe there, just as safe as she felt in her father's arms. She looked up at her cousin. "Maybe we can be each other's confidence. You know, until we have some of our own."

"I'd like that." The two of them sat in silence for a moment, not yet ready to return to the bright chaos of a Weasley family Christmas.

"Al?"

"Yeah?"

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Rosie."

**Author's Note:**

> This story was adapted from a portion of a WIP that I decided to cut, but I loved it too much to simply throw it out. I'm certainly biased, but I hope you enjoyed it too.
> 
> JKR owns the Potterverse.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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